


5 Times Ed Mercer is a Self-Sacrificing Fucker

by megaunit



Category: The Orville (TV)
Genre: M/M, T for gory-kinda descriptions of wounds, Things Going Wrong, and swearing! lots of swearing, happy ending? not that it was all that sad to begin with, self-sacrifice behaviour that pisses everyone off, trying to talk about feelings [and failing]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 19:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18644218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megaunit/pseuds/megaunit
Summary: --There are a lot of things that can go wrong, in space.The safety net of the Union's scientific advancement in medicine is something of a comfort, to those as deep out in uncharted space as the Orville. Out where every new star needs a name and each cluster a fly-through in search of anything new. Out here, where /everything/ is new: every beam of light, every pulse of energy, every nebula and gaseous cloud and moon, sun, planet. Every lightyear of the endless, black vacuum they cover.That safety net, however strong and stable it may be, is not always readily available.--5 Times Ed Mercer is a Self-Sacrificing Fuckerand one time the shoe is on the other foot





	5 Times Ed Mercer is a Self-Sacrificing Fucker

**Author's Note:**

> so i just.  
> have a lot of thoughts about ed mercer being the kind of 'save yourself i'll hold em back' dude who stays back to let people have a chance to escape. or the dude who gets hurt and ignores it because he has to Save People and the wound nearly costs him his life. or the dude who jumps in the line of fire to save someone else. and it Pisses Everyone Off So Much! esp claire because he's constantly in mdbay despite being the Captain, the main dude who Runs This Goddamn Ship, Please Stop Injuring Yourself
> 
> what im trying to get at is this is a good good man whose smile is a perfect :D and s just.. good
> 
> vaguely done to 'whatever it takes' by imagine dragons because.. good ed mood
> 
> there's this whole angsty bit which i wrote in like an hr, went 'nope.. Hated That' and then refused to touch it again so enjoy that too i guess- also, writing gordon in physical pain was the worst thing ever
> 
> this is it this is the fic it's scrappy and short, hope you enjoy, Please Comment If You Want bc i want to talk some other ed/gordon bastards like myself,, im just too invested guys i need to Stop.. like im not gonna.. but i Should.. i have exams.. please..  
> [listeN i have so many orville [ed/gord] stories in the works and i did NOT think this would be the one i'd finish first ANd i may never put them up but theyre There if anyone wants them!]

 

1]

There are a lot of things that can go wrong, in space.

The safety net of the Union's scientific advancement in medicine is something of a comfort, to those as deep out in uncharted space as the Orville. Out where every new star needs a name and each cluster a fly-through in search of anything new. Out here, where _everything_ is new: every beam of light, every pulse of energy, every nebula and gaseous cloud and moon, sun, planet. Every lightyear of the endless, black vacuum they cover.

That safety net, however strong and stable it may be, is not always readily available.

You have your ship. Like a buoy, a float in a storm. Get injured on-board, and you're more than likely going to be fine. You get injured off-ship- now that likelihood is significantly decreased without a medical officer nearby.

You get injured while stranded on a planet, while already wounded, while being chased by the lifeforms that call it home, and God help you, because your chances of survival are really not looking great. You're like a tiny marker flag that used to be the border of a growing infestation, now overrunning and unstoppable. You're about two degrees north of fucked and a meter short of getting out with your life.

That would be Ed Mercer.

Sprinting as full tilt as a human can when they've got a great slash cavity spanning the right rib, a very possibly broken forearm, and scratch and bruise upon scratch and bruise.

A wide graze covers his temple, disappearing into his hair and has long-since stopped dribbling blood, well coagulated and dark. Almost black, the giant scabbing area looking way worse than it really is, dripped and smeared to his chin and over the front of his face, smudged by sweat. All the way up to his right armpit and all the way down to the middle of his stomach, blood pumps and covers his right side and leg and falls to leave a remarkably distinct trail.

Remarkable, _how the fuck_ , that he's still running with what must be severe blood loss.

"Mercer t-to- Orville, _shit_ , damnit," Ed tries his comms one last time, disconnects it and sheds the useless- priceless, a feat of unimaginable science -hunk of tech on his belt, along with his shirt. Whatever it is that's chasing him is relentless, noisy, and fast. He can't stop to tie his shirt around his middle properly, just goes for the tightest and highest double-knot around his waist as he can. Legs numbing and his head running out of ideas, running out of options, Ed shoves away the thought that he might actually be about to die, and focuses on running further. Faster. His pursuers sound as if they're gaining on him. He can't afford to slow down.

He has to make it back. No matter what it takes.

He's the Captain- he isn't allowed to die.

A shuttle zooms overhead and he doesn't have the breath to shout or wave his arms, not that it'd help him. He's already been spotted, just as well, his eyesight is going sideways and tunnelled by shadows at the edges. He can keep his eyes open long enough to see the vessel turn on a pinhead and race back towards him.

_Must be Gordon. Huh._

He looses consciousness before it can land.

-

The first thing he sees upon opening his eyes to the medbay ceiling is Doctor Finn's unimpressed frown.

Normal.

Then, he gets a punch to the shoulder from Gordon. Also very routine. Kelly calls him a _"suicidal fuck"_ in many colourful ways until his ears ring.

He made it back, and that's what matters.

-

 

 

2]

Two jets of white light take hold of the bow of the Orville.

And that was only the lightning before the thunder.

Ed jumps out of his seat, shouting at Isaac for anything he's got, and the ship rocks, sending him flying into Talla, the two of them crashing into the dashboard right beside Bortus. Between Isaac relaying his confident _"I'm afraid I have not encountered anything of this nature, Captain,"_ across the bridge and Talla complaining about how solid Ed is, there is a disturbing noise from the bowels of the ship.

Crunching. Hisses, and alarms of depressurisation, followed by the ship's safeguard activating, keeping gravity and oxygen stable against the emptiness outside.

"Hull breach detected on Deck B, Captain."

"How?!" He snaps, Talla helping him to his feet. "That wasn't a puncture, it felt like-"

"The beams appear to have some sort of powerful magnetic energy. That energy is being used to pry the ship open."

"Like a can of beans," Is Malloy's helpful, hardly cheery addition, "Captain, should I get us out of here-"

"Moving would be unwise, Lieutenant." Isaac tells him. "If there is a pull in one direction, attempting to pull against a-"

"Yes, yes, we get the basic idea of how magnets work, Isaac!" Ed shuts Isaac up before he can continue on his speil. "Why the fuck is someone pulling apart our ship!?"

"Our answer appears to be on its way, Captain." Talla says, pulls up a video feed from the starboard side of the ship, putting it on the screen. A lone ship flies at high speed for the side of the Orville, staying between the two pulsing silver beams. No bigger than a regular Union shuttle, it is shaped with four points that spin as it flies. The appearance is similar to a caltrops spike, no doubt built for the purpose of wedging itself into whatever it's boarding.

Talla reads something from her dash, and hums. Ed doesn't even have to ask before she relays it to him: "Two life-signs. No known data matches their readings-"

"Let's give 'em a good greeting, then- Kelly, you're on," She starts to argue with him, _"don't you fucking dare"_ , and Gordon's _"hey, hey, hey, no! Ed!"_ , but he dashes out as fast as he can, "Talla, with me!"

-

In Talla's words, Ed went in alone. Got really fucked up, knocked out, and then that was that- she'd ripped her way in. Taken down the explorers, who also came from a high-gravity planet, with a little difficulty. _"It must've been nothing compared to Xelaya,"_ she tells the story to Gordon and Kelly in the mess hall once they're off-shift and Ed is safe in medbay, yet again, _"Because I crushed 'em, easy as."_

_"Like a can of beans?"_

_"Like a fuckin' can of beans, Malloy."_

_"Good on ya. Can you do Ed, next?"_

_"Oh, he's on my list, don't worry."_

_"Yeah, well, let Kelly go first. Well. I'm first, then Kelly, but by all means go nuts once she's through with him."_

_"If she leaves anything left."_

_"Haha. True."_

-

 

 

3]

_"Captain, I strongly advise-"_

"I said I've _got it_ ," Ed growls at Isaac over their static-scrambled connection, very much _not having it_ under control, but he isn't about to tell the Ensigns down here with him that their Captain is running out of options, fast. The running water and rock walls that feel like they're closing in and in are enough of a stressor.

And, the fact that they'd all fallen over ten meters into a tiny crevasse that is so narrow it can't fit two of them side-by-side. A crevasse that is, yes, filled with fast-flowing water. And they're on an unknown planet. And Bortus has passed out-

It's not a great predicament, all in all.

Ed will find them a way out of this. He always has, always can. He's the Captain, and that's what Captains do.

He just needs a little bit of time to think, and for Bortus to wake back up, hopefully. Bortus is down for the count, the only one of the four who hadn't managed to slow their fall when the rocks gave way. He's breathing, thankfully, but the water pouring through the crack they're now stuck in is going to make quick work of that. Will make quick work of the lot of them if, Ed can't find them a way up. Its current rips, pulls toward the yawning hole it swirls down. Dark, endless. Who knows how far it falls.

Ed knows. He's seen the scans. Has seen where the end of their measurements lay, where the Orville's scanners could not reach.

The canyon and cave-system beneath a crusty outcrop on some crusty Class-M had interesting readings that blocked too-deep a scan, and, how could Ed leave a mystery like that alone? He'd taken a landing party: two of Isaac's best Science underlings, and Bortus for any needed muscle. The rock underfoot caved in as they neared the edge of the plateau they'd been dropped on, and the four were trapped in the rockfall. Both Scientists fared alright. As did Ed, if bone-sticking-out-of-arm and the inability to breathe without a crushing sensation could be considered alright.

Ed is considering it 'alright', because the Ensigns are busy keeping Bortus as far out of the water as they can, and between a Huruen and a Human, the weight of a Moclan is still a bit too much to stay on top of. They've made their way to the highest ground they can, though the water laps around their shins, pulls at Bortus's legs.

It is up to Ed to figure out a way to climb up and out. Away from that pit the water leads them towards. Determined, he keeps feeling along the rock wall, looking for places he can climb. Fail after fail and fall after dangerous fall into the rushing water, he's finally making it some feet up. Two meters, three, to a place where the rock-walls almost meet. Ed barely manages to stick his head up over the lip.

A small platform extends out to sunlight and what must be the edge of the plateau, where a hundred-meter sheer plummet awaits them. Perfect to hover a shuttle beside and retrieve the landing party, send a retrieval team down for Bortus. Talla could definitely carry him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Ed doesn't know if he's coping with his life-endangering situation throught humour, or if he has hit the delirious point of pain from his arm and ribs and fuck-knows what else.

"Isaac, I found an opening- _ah_ -" He begins to communicate his finding to the Orville, and the foothold he'd found gives under his weight.

Ed falls backward, both arms coming up to cover his skull whether they're broken or not. Lands in the stream with only one functioning arm to keep him from being carried down the water-flow, down a drop that would make their initial fall look like a walk in the park.

Ed panics- allows himself to flail, for a moment.

Nails break on rock and eventually Ed pulls his body out of the water, a few kicks and some teeth-gritting to get his right arm into commission for just enough time to save himself. Drags himself along the wall towards the place he'd left Bortus in the hands of the Ensigns. Losing sight of them is not doing his mental state any good. Neither is nearly plummeting into whatever lightless chasm sits below the crevasse.

 _"Captain?"_ Isaac's voice brings him a little more calmness, _"I have your location. You are near the western face, fifty-two feet from the plateau's top."_

"Yes," He can breathe a sigh of relief as the rest of his party comes into view. Exactly where he'd left them.

One of the Ensigns catches sight of him and screeches. It doesn't quite reach him. Ed leans on the wall, closes his eyes. Something is trickling over his eyes, and he hopes it's only water, neither strength to reach up and check nor the energy to react if his hand does come away a deep red.

They have a way out, now. All he has to do is hold on. Keep everyone safe, get them out in one piece, "If you bring a shuttle, we can-"

_"I must inform you that Commander Greyson has brought the Orville into the atmosphere."_

"What!? Why!"

_"She intends to... Drill you out, although I am unsure where she intends to locate a drill large enough-"_

" _Son of a bitch_ \- Isaac! Put me through to the bridge!"

-

Onboard the Orville, Kelly listens as Talla informs her what their Captain is trying to do; trying and failing to climb out, injuring himself more and more. Kelly listens as Claire swears herself into an early grave, _"he's been dropping for the last few minutes but he's just- Kelly, we need to get him out right now!"_

She could bellow her frustrations until she popped a blood vessel in her eye- she's done it before. She could also probably go down there and dig him and Bortus and the Ensigns out herself, on fear and adrenaline alone.

 _"There's only so much I can do, Kelly,"_ Claire is still ranting, _"And there won't be much left to work with if we don't-"_

Instead of any of the routes her desperate mind comes up with, she spins the command chair towards Bortus's stand-in.

If Claire says he's reaching his end, then Kelly will take the fastest plan of action. They don't have time to launch a shuttle, prepare a team, and also wait for them climb down all ten meters of the crevasse to reach Ed, Bortus, the Ensigns.

Brute force it is.

"Line up that fucking cliff-face, Ensign. I want you to be level with Isaac's indications-"

"We now have their tracking devices online as well, Commander."

"On the screen, then, Isaac. Ensign, aim for that cluster."

She races through what would be most effective.

Cutting beam, definitely not- it has the highest chance of reaching the trapped crew, but also has the highest chance of dicing them up even if they tried to dial it back. Torpedoes would be a waste as well as overkill. There's only about five meters between the crew and the side of the plateau.

Cannons it is.

"Commander, I-"

"Isaac, it's going to work." She knows what she's doing, knows what this ship can do. Confidence, above all else, fills her.

"Commander, the Captain would like to-"

"Fuck the Captain- Ensign Roue, fire Plasma Cannons at ten percent."

"Yes, sir."

A dual-burst of lasers blow a hole in the rocky outcrop, sending a plume of dust and chunks of rock into the air. The blast creates a considerable dent in the plateau.

"Not enough- Ensign, two bursts and focus wider at-"

A familiar voice rattles through the bridge before she can give the order.

 _"What the fuck are you doing!!"_ Ed's tinny voice is broken up by clatters and shouts of confusion, undoubtably the Ensigns, _"We're down here, don't fire!"_

"Getting you _out_ of there," Kelly shouts back, "Doctor Finn is watching your goddamned vitals and she's really fucking impressed you haven't-"

 _"I'm fine,"_ Of course Ed says it. Kelly's eyebrow twitches. She watches Gordon stamp his foot. She hears Claire groan and bang her head on something. Even Henry Park, in the background of Claire's feed, calls Ed a _"dimwit"_.

They all resist saying anything, _"Stop firing, we'll get even more buried, and we can't carry Bortus between us!"_

 _"Of course you can't- you have a broken arm!"_ Shouts Claire, even though Ed can't hear here. It's news to Kelly and the rest of the bridge, however, and their collective impatience increases tenfold.

"Trust me, you idiot! Malloy, take us closer. Roue, fire on my command." If he doesn't die down there, Kelly is going to kill him herself, if she can beat Gordon to it.

_"Kelly, Bortus is fucking injured down here, he can't move, and-"_

"Duck, then!" She doesn't bother cutting the connection, letting Ed ramble and protest when she gives the command: "Fire!"

The rocks take another hit and it is only just enough to open a gap into the crevasses, perfectly level with the four life-signs, the altitude of their trackers. A rush of noise fills the comms, and along with it, a short, sharp scream.

There's a sinister silence through the connection to Ed's communicator. Other than the clattering of rocks and fizzes of the water, nothing speaks. No Ed calling her reckless, calling her an idiot in a relieved, fond tone, because surely he can see the sun.

Not a beat later, Doctor Finn's voice is roaring from Kelly's chair, _"Oh- oh my God, what the fuck did you just do!"_

And she sees the cluster of life signs on the screen.

Three gathered together, instead of four.

"Ed?!" Malloy cries, Kelly already out of her seat and throwing orders left and right, _"Talla, tell shuttle bay to get that prepped shuttle out and come with me- Malloy, you have the- Malloy, listen- Malloy!"_ , "Ed, are you there-!!"

"Gordon!" She gets his attention without much more difficulty, though she doesn't think it was her call that got it. He snaps out of it on his own- there's a time for being shocked, and there's a time for acting fast. Now is one for the latter.

"Holy shit."

He is pale, looks like he's about to be sick.

"Get in the chair."

He moves slowly, eyes glued to the side of the screen, the 3-D imaging of the plateau's caves that display a falling, falling, falling blue pip of light. A little navy 'x' representing Ed's tracker, the other three still bunched in the parts of the canyons they had been able to scan and compute.

"Yes, sir."

The pip disappears off the edge.

Gordon falls into the command chair. "Ed?"

Nothing.

He pings Ed's communicator. Again, and again- watches the shuttle fly back and forth through the screen, carting Bortus and the shaken-up Ensigns back. Watches a pair of their deep-retrieval team jump from the shuttle to the crack they'd driven in the side of the cliff, disappearing into the dark split, dressed head-to-toe in rappel gear and lights and pressure suits.

In a rush of noise and movement, Kelly returns. Shooing him from the chair, the Beta shift Captain hovering at the edge of the bridge, unable to make it more obvious that she's waiting for Gordon to move.

He blinks.

Hours have passed, shifts switched; everything had been on pause, inside the ship and inside Gordon, until Ed had been hauled from whatever depths he'd fallen to.

"Lucky we can regrow limbs, right?" She says, her hands are staying on his shoulders to keep him sturdy while he gets to his feet but Gordon can feel how they shake. "He put his fucking receiver on his pant's pocket-outer like a rookie."

Lucky he didn't lose all his blood before we could get to him. Lucky it wasn't more than his leg. Lucky he didn't shatter on landing wherever the fuck he landed- wherever the team found him. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

All things Gordon does not say.

"Well, it wasn't like he'd had many legs to stand on, in there, so what's one more?"

She laughs, and he manages a chuckle with her, leaving the bridge side-by-side, arm in arm.

"Guess so."

"Fuckin' rookie, huh."

They've learnt to just laugh, by this point.

Ed will take a while to come to, and even longer to get out of medbay. The worry, the fury, the threats of injury on his person and death by their hands for being so reckless- it can all wait. Without Ed around for the next twelve-or-so hours, there is still a ship to run. Off-shift, there is food to be eaten and drinks to be had and people to talk to about their dumb-as-shit Captain.

They can give him hell for it later.

-

 

 

4]

The worst times are when it seems like everything truly does appear to be, as Ed says, _fine_.

-

They've almost escaped a skirmish with the Krill.

Ed and a small team took it upon themselves to protect a newly-discovered colony on one of the planets that border what must be an undiscovered reach of Krill space. Or is perhaps a far-out Krill outpost or area they'd designated for their own uses. The Union doesn't have the information, yet.

They have a very worryingly _vague_ idea of where they are in the universe- not that it matters too much, when you're dealing with hostile aliens.

There had been a bloody hand-to-hand with these Krill in the close-quarter encounter, and then shots exchanged as Ed, Bortus, Ensign Roue, and Ensign Denen made their way out of the colony's thin streets and into the surrounding forest. Sparse, tall trees provided little cover. They had ducked and weaved, doing their best to hang on until Malloy brought a shuttle down to them so they could beat a hasty retreat.

As they put distance between them and the Krill, the Krill switched from their guns to more devastating projectiles. Small explosions and flashing bombs that blinded, stunned for precious seconds.

One particular rocket-like grenade about the size of a tennis ball caused the most damage. Both Ensigns took multiple injuries to their legs, and Bortus a few in his non-dominant arm. Ed caught one across the cheek, two in his neck. Whatever the grenade releases are fashioned to embed deep, shot fast and hard and capable of ripping into flesh like barbs.

Their Ensigns are on the ground, Bortus running hard for them, for his Captain, who is holding a hand over Roue's kneecap and telling him _"you'll be alright, just hang on"_ as he looses more precious blood by the second. Green between Ed's fingers, hands pink and bloody red against Roue's purple skin. He orders Roue to help Denen, to get the two closer together and make the three of them less of a target. But Ed has that noise, that high-pitched singing sound well-and-truly learnt.

It only took one shot, and yet it had more than enough of an impact to give the noise a high priority in his memory.

"Bortus, get down!!" He orders, and Bortus dives into cover in the nick of time.

Ed throws himself across his Ensigns.

Another one of those spike-exploding grenades whizzes through the trees, going off at a higher height rather than down low, as the other one must've been. All up Ed's back, wet spots bleed into his blue shirt. He gets back into a low crouch, finds no new injuries on the Ensigns, and motions for Bortus to come the rest of the way to him.

The back of Ed's head goes numb.

It must be the stress of everything.

"Captain, we need to move!" Even with a torn-up arm, Bortus is being so brave. Ed is grateful to have him here.

"Can you carry them?" Ed's voice is weak. Why his voice is weak, he has no idea. He stands up. The world spins- he grabs onto Bortus, both Ensigns under-arm, and pushes him onward before he can think about the lightheadedness. They need to get out of here. Away from the Krill. Towards the oncoming roar of engines, welcome through cotton-stuffed ears. Ed hits the side of his head, trying to bring his hearing back.

That only makes it worse, and now that he's let go of Bortus, his legs carry him sideways until he hits a tree.

His hand is slick, wet, dripping with blood.

Ed shakes it off. No time for that, the shuttle has pulled down between the trees and the back door is dropping open. Doctor Finn is there to assist the Ensigns, and Malloy isn't fully landing, ready to snatch them up and dash.

They're all so fortunate to have a Doctor like Claire Finn, who would stand in the shuttle bay or, in times of great need, jump in the shuttle to be as early to treat injuries as possible. She had incredible foresight, knowing where she would be needed. Ed cannot deny her that, as belittled as he may have felt for the first few days of his posting.

Thank fuck Claire had come down, because a couple of lasers fly by and crackle into the shuttle's shield just as Bortus passes through it, catching him in the shoulder. The Ensigns are safe, Claire helping the one Bortus had dropped to his feet. Bortus is safe. Ed is doing his job. He crosses the shield too, stumbles up the ramp and thumps Bortus on the unhurt shoulder on his way to the front. The sound inside the shuttle's shield is so compressed, he can't make out Bortus's words, growing in volume once Ed has passed him. Gordon jumps up from his seat. The look on his face is like a shock. Did he really not believe Ed would get back to him on his feet? Ed opens his mouth to laugh and ask him just as much, feels what he hopes is a smile cover his face, feels the sudden and blinding pain, a white-hot streak that zig-zags all across his body.

The shuttle is on an automatic rise out of the atmosphere, and Ed doesn't realise his knees are shaking, buckling, hitting the floor until Gordon is right before him, has lunged out of his seat to stop Ed from hitting the ground.

Ed drops like a stone, and they realise he'd taken a majority of that second grenade's shrapnel for himself.

-

 

 

5]

So, maybe they should have learnt to not let Ed go on every planet-side mission. They should have learnt it a long time ago, before he could build up whatever kind of expectation he holds himself to. This bullheaded determination to take everything the universe has to- sometimes literally -throw at him.

Ed, the Captain, can do what he wants. No one can stop a Captain, when they're out this far, and are making _arguably_ reasonable choices. They're given the position for a reason. The pressure, the weight that comes with Captaincy isn't just thrown onto anyone.

They are to protect their crew. Protect those they serve, not the other way around. Or, at least, Ed sees it that way. He's here to work for everyone on the Orville. He is the one holding command, and each decision has to matter, has to be for the good of the crew; there is no 'self', in a Captain's situation.

In many cases, this would be a good thing. Adhering to this perspective would appear honourable and logical, reassuring.

For a Captain such as Ed, it is likely the worst life-lesson he could ever possibly internalise. 'Arguably reasonable choices' are closer to 'I corner myself into life-threatening circumstances time and time again, but it's my job, I guess, no one else should have to do it'.

"This is setting a new record, Mercer," Doctor Finn informs his prone and dead-to-the-world but not-quite-dead-yet body in the transfer bed. She fits a respirator to his face and helps Nurse Park turn the next corner, "A new low. Even for you. Poison _and_ a blow to the chest? Are you even trying to keep yourself alive? You _know_ how poison fucks with the dermal scanners, you _know_ it's harder to heal you when you're _poisoned_ , stupid, clod-headed..."

She goes on for a while, like this.

Claire has began keeping charts- is building empirical research on reasons why Ed should never go on an away mission ever again.

If he won't listen to the concerns of his crew, to those closest to him, maybe he will listen to reason.

"It's not like you'll let him die- if anyone should get to actually kill him, it's you, ma'am." Henry Park jokes, though even he is grimacing. A hole punched between someone's ribs tends to do that to people, even the steeliest of Medical Officers.

He knows the joke well, too. Kelly, _"I'll kill you if you do it, Ed, don't think I won't"_ , and Gordon, _"Ed, if you die down there, I will kill you myself"_ , and Talla, _"you know I respect you but if you get hurt one more time I will kick your ass, Captain"_. Even Claire has had a few 'I swear I will kill you, Ed Mercer' moments. Most people on-board have had them. Chiefs of Staff have definitely had them at least twice.

"There's a line, Henry," Doctor Finn, solemn, lines up a cannula and sliding it into the crook of Ed's elbow, familiar with the veins there, "And I think _we_ will be rather far from the front of it."

-

 

 

[0]

Ed is a Captain.

He has his view on what a Captain is, what a Captain does, and what a Captain should do.

Gordon disagrees.

Asking Ed to stop doing what he's doing is like asking him to chuck his Kermit doll into a shuttle pod and eject it into a star and then blow up the star. If Ed was asked which was worse, he might struggle to toe a line.The fact that Ed rates his wellbeing on the same priority level as some late twentieth century puppet is incensing, to Gordon.

Ed has always been weird, like that. Weird is the wrong word- maybe more _unreal_.

Gordon knew it the second they met in that shitty bar at Union Point. He knew it, setting foot onto the Orville, side-by-side with Captain Ed Mercer, his own shiny new Helmsman title had him picking his head that fraction higher.

He knew it, squished chest-to-chest with Ed, stuck in the middle of a territory clash on Raxseg between two denominations of a pantheon. Hiding in the only cover they could find in the cave system, Ed had shouted over the wailing creatures as Kelly picked them off a little further ahead, _"do you want to go on a date after this?"_ and Gordon had shouted _"what the fuck, man"_ back at him.

He knew it after this latest mission, which involved hearing Ed slice all the fingers off of his right hand to enact a peace treaty with this new colony of humanoid aliens. Doing said procedure correctly ends in being attacked and chased off the planet, as per the peoples' tradition. Apparently. The details are fuzzy, to Gordon. They often are. He's just the fucking pilot, and loves it that way, sometimes.

Sometimes, he wished he _knew_ what the fuck Ed gets himself into. Sometimes, he wishes for Ed to at least seem like _he_ knows what the fuck he's getting himself into.

This whole _'chopping off your fingers and getting beaten up because you failed to remember how the proceedings of this culture's treaty bargain went'_ \- this _isn't_ the last straw, it can't be. Ed's willingness to ignore his own mortality is not what will do it, for Gordon. He's been through all this shit so far, how could he consider giving up now, is the logic Gordon sticks to.

There's this voice though, in the back of Gordon's head, that has been gaining power and power and power, a little more every time Ed is injured, be it superficially or mortally.

Perhaps there's a limit to what Gordon can sit back and let happen, watch happen to the man he loves.

-

Whenever Ed looks as upset as he is right now, sitting across from Gordon, it is impossible for Gordon to keep the memories of Ed's divorce away. The times Ed would drag himself home and stumble into Gordon's spare room. The way he would sit on the couch and aim his blank stare at the television, which was better than it going through Gordon. The rare times Ed would smile at Gordon and thank him for something, or comment on something he had seen during his day at work spent filing and archiving at a desk while hungover or still drunk.

So many things about Ed make so much more sense, when Gordon dares to think about that year Ed spent in his spare bed, on his couch, on his bathroom floor.

"I will fuckin'-" Gordon has to choke back his shout, whatever curses he's had stacked for all the times Ed has come back onboard unconscious and ripped up. He needs to get his point across, now more than ever, because Ed's fingers have finally grown back after seven long hours of Claire wondering whether a body could build a tolerance to the technology. _"Bodies have their limits,"_ she'd told a quivering Ed, _"Could you be finding yours, finally..."_

Those fingers tap along the side of Ed's glass of whiskey. As though they had never been missing.

Almost like they were reluctant, the cells had eventually regenerated and all four fingers on Ed's right hand grew in perfectly. And Ed took that as a sign to keep going as he had been. If Gordon believed the ordeal has frightened Ed even half as much as it had frightened him, he'd be wrong.

The mess hall has thinned out for the period between shift switches. It's just them at a window seat same as it usually is when they decide to sit for a heart-to-heart; always them, the bartender. Somewhere behind the screen of plants, Dann's voice can be heard ranting alongside LaMarr's laughter and encouragement, Talla's concerned laughter, telling them to relax a little.

Levelling his Captain with as much of a _'do not fuck with me right now'_ face as he can manage, Gordon tells Ed what's been pressing at him, what cracks at his composure and has started to crackle around his periphery every time he looks Ed's way. The words pain him, but what Ed does to himself hurts even more. "If you go down one more time, I swear to shit, Ed, that's _it_."

Thankfully, Gordon doesn't have to elaborate on what _'that's it'_ means. Ed's dealt with enough of a failing relationship to know.

"I..."

He struggles for the right words. Gordon hates it, hates that he has to put them in this position.

It comes down to this, in Gordon's head: does he watch Ed die up-close, or try to distance himself as much as he can manage before the inevitable? Because, lately, that day seems to be drawing closer and closer. "I- you gotta understand, I- I can't not-"

"There are just as capable people on this _ship_ ," Gordon's voice breaks, breaks again, "It's not _just_ you."

"What kind of a Captain would I be if I let my crew go down there and die, when I could-"

"An _alive one_!"

Gordon has been this fucking _blockhead's_ friend for years on years on years. That wouldn't change- or he hopes it wouldn't -if they broke off this more-than-friends, down-low shtick that everyone on the ship knows about but doesn't make a fuss out of. "You'd- fuck, Ed. Do you have any idea..."

As a person, Ed is unbelievably dear to Gordon. As a person, Ed is also _just so goddamned stupid,_ sometimes. And, also as a person, _Gordon_ has grown attached to this goddamn stupid-head.

Putting up a few walls, a few mental blocks of distance between himself and Ed might not help the stress Gordon will feel, every time Ed is planet-side and out-of-sight. The only indication that he's still alive being their comms system and Claire's narration on his wellbeing as soon as everything inevitably goes to shit. The nature of their relationship, whatever that is, at present- Gordon doesn't want to call it fragile, but it is unlabelled and still fresh, tentative, a relatively new thing to both of them. Going back may be hard. Going back may be impossible, Gordon may be talking out of his ass right now. He might not be able to let Ed go like that, _fuck_ whether or not Ed will be able to let go of him.

Because that definitely factors in to it.

Because Ed is looking across the table while Gordon tries the first thing coming to his head, the first and foremost worry, "A fuckin'- I'm- I can't stand by, watching you," Ed ducks his head, stares hard at his hand, hovering against the lip of his glass. Gordon can see a shining build in his eyes. He's never been good with criticism, with rejection, almost all types of negative emotions thrown in his face, excluding anger. An emotion Gordon steers well clear of. Knows, deep down, he cannot be mad at Ed for doing what he does. The man's an idiot, but his drive comes from somewhere Gordon respects, knows he cannot change.

That doesn't make it hurt any less, the ways Ed throws his life around, returns to the Orville with a new laundry-list of pains for Claire to patch up, "Every fucking time, I don't know if you're going to come back awake or knocked out or bleeding all over everyone or fuckin', dead, like."

"Gord." Ed speaks low, goes slowly, trying to lay this out for Gordon, the same way Gordon knows he had done for himself, almost a year ago and spending his first night in the Captain's Quarters of the ship. "What kind of Captain, would send others in his place, into a potentially lethal situation?"

"You're not a bad Captain for sitting one or two out. You're not- your _job_ isn't to-"

"I'm not a good one, then."

"Ed."

This is not what the conversation is about, and Ed gets it a second later. Reads the look in Gordon's eyes. A little belated, Gordon tells him: "Shut up."

Wordless conversations have always been a thing, for Ed and Gordon.

But Ed looks at Gordon with helplessness, _I don't know how to do this,_ and Gordon watches the first tear fall and holds on to his own, _I need something, anything, this is too much and I still have no idea what I'm going to do, even if you do give me an answer._

 _I don't know what answer I want,_ is Gordon's reply to Ed's _I don't know how to make this work._

"If it's too much," Ed tries to broach the air they've built between them, shrinks in on himself right away, _I still don't know, either,_ "I'm sorry."

"That's it? That's-" Gordon's more shocked, than angered. More confused, because Ed wouldn't give something in like this. He definitely would give in against Gordon, like this- "You're just. Sorry."

"I'm not going to- Gordon, you know. You know I love you."

"I love you too-"

"But I wouldn't _not_. I _couldn't_ , not in good conscience. If something happened, I don't know what I would..."

His head accepts it. His head has a complex awareness of Ed and all his intricacies, and yet, his heart seems to win this one.

Gordon isn't so good at listening to his heart. It's always rash and sudden, leaves him in worse places than he'd been in before he gave it the reins.

Now, it fires up, feels as though it pushes on his lungs to grow, giving itself more strength by stealing his breathing room.

"Every time, I have the _same_ thought, Ed- 'what the fuck now?' Every damn time, and it _never_ gets better. What if something happened to you- fuck, things _have_ happened to you. Do you know how many times we've nearly lost you?"

And Gordon can't control it, his breaths, how they race and feel as if every exhale hollows him out, then every inhale fills him with a pins-and-needles sensation. Over and over, this nothingness followed by ache, so fast. There's too little a space for all that air. He's too sore and tired to hold on to it longer than a second.

Looking Ed in the eye, Ed with tears falling and nothing else to say for himself, Gordon says something that would seem so obvious, but hits home. "Do you have any idea how many times I've _almost watched you die_?"

It hits Ed, too. He doesn't move, does his best to not shy away from it, though Gordon can see he wishes he could. Wishes he could leave this conversation. It is clear to Gordon that he shares the pain. Even if he has not experienced it, he must have an idea of what it's like.

They've reached the same page at last.

It doesn't feel as relieving as Gordon hoped it'd feel in the slightest, nowhere near to it.

"I'm sorry." His voice is feeble.

"Not sorry enough to stop," Gordon allows his emotions, in turmoil, bubbling-over. Lets them reach for Ed in the last way he can think of, short of reaching over the table and shaking the man and letting out every ugly sob he knows he hides, somewhere, waiting to come out later when he's alone.

Maybe his words are harsh. Maybe it comes out edged in poison, seems like resentment- "Not sorry enough to care-" but really, it's all that hurt given a voice. "Sleep on your own tonight, Ed."

"Gordon-"

He knows Ed is reaching for him. He understands that Ed doesn't want this, either. Gordon can't do it- _won't_ , not when he knows that next shift will bring the possibility of Ed throwing himself off the ship and head-first into danger-

"It's a reality I'll probably have to face soon." And there's the resentment, venomous, blistering on its way up. "I'm sure you can deal with it."

-

 

 

\+ 1]

"Shouldn't have brought you with- me- I- I _knew_ , this was a _bad idea_ -"

"Ed... _Help me_..."

Ed wants to run to him, drop what he's doing to stand by Gordon's side. Reassure himself that Gordon is still breathing, still alive- reassure Gordon of that, too.

His responsibility, as a Captain, is the only thing holding him back. That, and he knows firsthand how important it is to get to the Orville as soon as possible, so he keeps what poor focus he has and puts it into pulling the shuttle up from dusty, pollen-covered forrest floor of this ridiculous planet.

"You're gonna be _fine_ , Gord."

"Am I dying?"

What the fuck does Ed say to that? It's not as if he has any clue what happened to Gordon. One second, they had been running together back to the shuttle, Claire's patchy _"I have all the readings I wanted, now get off of there, Ed,"_ and the next, Gordon fell to his hands and knees, doubled over, nearly incomprehensible by the time Ed doubled back to check if he was okay. Claire had expected Ed to be the one to incur any sort of injury; her words and order and a warning. Ed could concur- there was something in these forests. He'd known it would've been stupid to not take another person down with him. That person would have been Bortus, as usual, were it not for the unique build of the world's crust.

The planet had all these spires rising in thick, curving strains of minerals. Harder than diamond. Shining like it, too, making it difficult to see the surface in both the blinding reflections and the uncanny narrows the rock creates. Along with the dazzling arches and twists that are covered in vines and short trees, these walls of wind rip through the atmosphere, thick with cloud and rain. Ed would have been tested, for sure. Would have crashed the thing, given his luck.

It would be obvious, then, to take shuttle pilot extraordinaire Gordon Malloy along for a ride. Not as much of a fighter as the rest, when it comes down to it. Certainly not the most athletic. But, the only lifeforms Claire could pick up were plant and aquatic and the trillions of microscopic bugs that were _"Nothing to worry about, Ed, just get down there, get my readings, and come back. In one piece, please"_.

And, 'til the last few seconds, it had been nothing to worry about.

Actually, the whole planet-side mission was a quite a nice walk. Short treks, returning data to where their shuttle sits, at a good intersection between all four of the planet's most distinct biomes. On the way down, Gordon had eased them in and out of pressure zones and air currents, _"Look Ed, no hands,"_ easier than breathing for him. Ed had enjoyed sitting back and watching for once, and Gordon had loved the 'time off'. _"We're still working,"_ Ed told him, laughing, gripping the headrest of Gordon's seat as Gordon led the shuttle into a barrel-roll through a passage of diamond-like pillars, shooting out the end of it low across an expanse of water. _"Come on, five more minutes,"_ Gordon had begged of him, and how could Ed refuse, especially seeing as Gordon was having the time of his life.

The second Gordon fell and Ed began to panic was, really, the moment things went from 'maybe it wasn't such a good idea to make out against that tree' to 'there is definitely something in these forests and suddenly it wants to kill us'. Ed asked Claire for a report, only to realise that the past half-hour they'd spent bickering and giggling together had been interrupted only by the sounds of the planet and Claire's one message urging them to return to the Orville.

A spike-shooting plant- or, mass of plants, Ed didn't really have time to take the shifting forest in -had hit Ed and went right through the shoulder. In his front and out his back in one blinding, agonising sweep. Ed can only assume Gordon had been nicked by one, too. Another drove into Ed's back, after he'd picked Gordon up and carried him the last couple of meters to the shuttle. He'd managed to break that one off on his way in- slamming it against the shuttle doorway so hard that it splintered with a mighty cracking noise, the pointed part tearing its way out of the muscle of his back.

Gordon is not well. Ed sure hasn't forgotten about his own wounds, but some things come first, and Ed is not even close to the top of that ranking. The safety of his crew- of Gordon- of his fucking boyfriend he'd just managed to compromise with over their first and biggest argument-

These things always, without fail, will come first. And right now, Gordon is sweaty and clammy and Ed is fearing for the man's life. He's called Claire ten-billion times but there must be something jamming their signals. After the co-ordinated way in which the planet had come alive, all on the same beat, honed in on Ed- it implies there must be a hive-mind or collective consciousness of some sort. Spanning a planet, Ed has no doubt it would interrupt even the most powerful of communication systems. How many of Claire's messages could they have missed? How much of their conversations had made it to their ship?

How much of this could have been avoided, if Ed had been more careful? Hadn't let them get as carried away as they'd become? Hadn't brought Gordon in the first place, it was a bad call from the beginning, Isaac would have been just as fine navigating the-

Ed can't stop spiralling in the most unprofessional, un-Captain-ly manner, and Gordon is getting worse, groaning and rolling from where Ed had secured him in the back of the shuttle. "Ed," he calls out, "Ed, I'm _dying_ ," and Ed head spins. Rather than letting it freak him out more, he puts it down to the patch of wetness, slowly spreading down his spine, hoping it's blood loss and not an imminent panic attack.

"No, _no_ , you're gonna be fine, I promise."

He finally gets a connection to the Orville as they rise from the atmosphere, and demands the shuttle bay doors to be unlocked, tells Claire to meet them in as few words and as little hysteria as he can manage.

-

Finn is waiting for them, her eyes on Ed the moment the shuttle door falls open. She's expecting _him_ to be the one carried out, but no.

"What in the _hell_ is going on?"

Gordon is limp in their Captain's arms- said Captain has the appearance of 'I'm losing my shit, please help me, aaaaaa', and his vitals aren't far off, when she re-checks her numbers. As a matter of fact, Ed's vitals are _fucked_. He should be moving like he's dying or hardly moving at all, so why is he carrying Gordon and swearing at Engineering techies to move so he can put the man down, _"Make some space, fuck, shit, Gordon, stay with me, Gordon-"_

Gordon, whose readings are tip-top.

Lowering Gordon down to the floor against some crates, Ed turns his back to her. "Oh you have got to be _kidding_ me," Claire says to herself- and Henry Park, bless him, is standing at her side in an instant, ready for her next commandment. This huge, scuffed-up slash runs up Ed's back, ending in ribbons of skin near his neck. From his lower back to between his shoulder-blades where the area of shredded flesh begins- deviating from the near-perfectly vertical laceration -a bright green colour appears to be seeping into his veins. What Claire can see of them around blood and oozy, also greenish puss, is that the difference between his blood and whatever's seeping through him is distinct. All the better for her to monitor.

How convenient of him, to have gotten hit by something that is slow-acting, and shows her exactly where it is, what its progress is into destroying his body.

Her Captain might be poisoned, again, and he is definitely due for detainment in a medbay bed, _again_ \- Ed won't let her near him, not with Gordon sat upright, nowhere near passing-out on her scanners yet there he is, flopping to the side and moaning, wheezing.

"He's- Gordon- I tried to call but the- and-" Ed keeps shifting out of her grip, focused entirely on Gordon. She waves Henry off to Ed's other side, a silent ask to get a look at the uncooperative idiot's torn-up back.

One thing at a time. Fuck knows Ed has sat though worse pains. The emerald-y, veiny _shit_ \- as Claire will name it until she can identify it properly -didn't look like it had gotten far. The two of them would have had to get through a whole shuttle ride, so it can't be very fast-spreading as all. It is nothing Ed can't bounce back from.

"Alright, alright," She concedes, checking Gordon as she would any regular patient, skeptical as all get-out. This won't take long anyway. She can check the real problem child in the shuttle bay soon as she finds out what Gordon has going on, although Ed's blood pressure is falling faster than she would like, so she may have to take drastic measures to sedate him, "Let me look."

Half a minute passes, and Claire realises there's truly nothing wrong with Gordon, other than that he is laying it on thick and Ed is falling for it so badly. He even winks at Claire at one point, the motion going right over Ed's head- Ed, who is breaking apart. The perfect combination of a well-timed shock, blood loss, and being the person Gordon is to Ed, has the Captain acting so unlike a Captain it is kind of not-funny to watch.

Very unfunny.

"Gordon, stop it." She pleads him to give up the act, in an undertone that Ed can't seem to hear over his own meltdown.

Gordon rolls his eyes back and calls out Ed's name and Henry starts snorting, having to walk away from the scene. Of course he wouldn't help her on this.

Claire is surrounded by children.

"Gord, _fuck_ ," Ed is beyond begging, practically weeping at this point, "Please, _please_ , talk to me-"

"Captain, he's fine, you-"

" _He's not fine_! _Look_ at him-"

Claire can't help it, it must be that word, _"fine"_. Hearing it from Ed's mouth causes an instant reaction- she whacks the crap out of his arm in one swift smack. She will not play along. She refuses, not when Ed is injured. _Fine my ass,_ she's about to call Ed himself.

The hit and the downright pissed expression on Claire is what cracks Gordon, though. His laugh starts out muffled, then gest louder, and louder, unable to contain himself any longer.

As she watches the horror give way, the flash of confusion on Ed's face before he settles on barely concealed fury, she knows this is going to explode all over the place if she can't control them.

Absolute _children_.

"Now, boys-"

"Did you just... _Pretend to die_ , so I would know how it felt?"

 _Of course he did_ , Claire wants to scream at Ed, _what else would you expect?!_

"How does it feel?!" Gordon, _fuck him_ , jumps to his feet. All fleet-of-foot to demonstrate his lack of illness, shedding the close-to-death-ness he'd been wearing a moment ago.

Ed jumps up as well. Loses his footing, sways on the spot.

"You son of a bitch-"

And when Gordon takes off, Ed gives chase, and Claire is again shown the horrible mess that is Ed's back, the hole in his shoulder- _holy shit the hole in his shoulder- how did I not see the hole in his shoulder-_

"Ed, _Ed_ \- you're still injured-!" She chases after him, who chases after Gordon, and can hear Henry following her, like a train of dumbness departing tomfoolery station- "No- _Ed, wait_ , you're _still_ -"

"I'll kill you!" He's screaming at Gordon, receiving only a laugh that grows distant, Gordon making it out of the shuttle bay in a flash:

"You'll have to catch me, first!"

" _Ed Mercer_ ," Claire breaks out the 'mum' voice, even if it falls on deaf ears, "Get back here this instant!"

Not for the first time- not for the last, certainly- Claire thanks every power out there for Talla.

On express order from Claire to stop Ed at all costs from leaving Claire's sights, Talla saves the day, crash-tackling him before he can get very far. While he's pinned- while Henry is telling Talla to get the fuck off of him -Claire finally gets her analysis of the green stuff in his veins. Harmless, a mild chemical that will inhibit Ed's language centres and numb his hands and feet, at the very worst.

A few fractured ribs from being wiped out by a Xelayan are nothing for Claire to re-fuse, and Finn can strap him down and take him to medbay, take a good look at that back and the hole blown through his shoulder. Somewhere down the halls, Gordon is spinning his tale to Kelly and the two are laughing at Ed's expense. Finn can hear their laughter, knows Ed can, too, because in spite of it all, there's one of those rarely-seen soft and wide smiles on his face as he lays back on the transfer bed.

"Admit it, Ed... You might have deserved that. Not as bad as it turned out, but, we know it's not enough to kill you. He knew it wasn't enough to kill you."

"I don't think Malloy knew he was injured," Henry says, ramming a few injections into Ed's neck as they take him through the halls on a bed to medbay.

"I'm lucky he didn't kill _me_."

Ed's voice is going faint, whatever anaesthesia Henry administered kicking in faster and harder than usual. She has no idea what he decided to give Ed, but she trusts it's one of the types he isn't allergic to. They've been here this many times. There's no way Henry could fuck it up, by now.

Claire chuckles, thinking she's safe by the way Ed's eyelids flutter, begin to close against his will:

"I think he's leaving that to Kelly."

Heart-rate spiking, Ed's readings push from the 'danger' zone to the 'oh fuck it's cardiac arrest' zone, and he tries to sit up- Henry yelps, grabbing his un-holey shoulder to keep him down, "A joke- it was a _joke_ , Ed."

"Can't joke 'bout that shit, Claire," He mumbles, the drugs finally taking him, "Tha's not fair..."

-

 

 

[-]

After hanging for hours at high orbit around a strange, gaseous planet lying on the far edge of a solar system and sustaining life- two things that never happen in tandem -curiosity gets the better of him. Ed makes the call.

"Ah, Talla, ready a shuttle for..."

Kelly coughs, loudly and for about tens seconds, looks ready to kick him. He trails off.

Gordon is facing forward in his seat, but Ed watches how his left foot bounces, how his right hand makes a fist and flattens, over and over against his dash. Frowning, he looks to Kelly again. The urge to leap at him and either pin him to his chair or throw him out of it has built to a twitching eye and her lips pressed in a thin straight line. _'We talked about this'_ , it says. _'don't fuck it up',_ it says.

Ed huffs, not willing to fight it- straight away, Gordon sighs a breath of relief, and Kelly nearly slides out of her chair as she relaxes, as Ed makes the reluctant call: "For. Ensign Roue to-"

Roue stands and starts punching the air, ecstatic before Ed finishes his order, high-fives Bortus and Talla, even flies by Kelly for a fist-bump on his way out of the bridge.

Silence reigns for a moment, then Ed turns to Kelly, asking at a whisper:

"Am I _really_ that bad-"

" _Yes_ ," The entire bridge, Isaac included, choruses, Kelly continuing, "It's _that bad_ , Ed."

"Well."

There's nothing he can really say, to that.

He fidgets the whole time. Instead of looking like she wants to kick him, Kelly looks like she wants to hold his hand. Roue checks back every few minutes under Ed's constant insistence, communications running well through the thick cloud coverage on the planet. Ed drills him for info, tells him to take pictures of as many things as he can, makes sure the poor Ensign spares no detail. At one point, Talla calls him a nerd, and Isaac agrees. Even Ed has to laugh at that.

Roue comes back, scathed by acid that had spurted from a hole in the ground, and bruised from the few hostile creatures down there. Claire calls him into medbay when he returns- Ed is _allowed_ to go planet-side and do his own 'note-taking', on the condition that Talla accompanies him.

" _Note-taking_ , fucking," He curses to himself on the way to the shuttle bay, Talla hot on his heels, " _Allowed_. I'm the Captain."

He turns to Talla, "I am the _Captain_ , why am _I_ treated like the trouble child?"

"Well, in the words of Kelly," Talla begins, and Ed is already rolling his eyes, stomping onward, "You _are_ the trouble child."

She doesn't need to see his face to know he's smiling.

"So be it, then."

"You know, _personally_ , I don't mind it, Captain," Says Talla, not bothering to catch up the few meters he's put between them. He slows slightly, anyway, at her words, "Keeps us on our toes. Makes life interesting, you know?"

As ready as Ed thought he was with a quick retort, she interrupts his train of thought by adding a sincere note, and promptly ruining it: "But, you know. It would be great if you stayed alive... You're not bad company."

" _Not bad company_ \- I'm- _wow_ , glad I'm good for _something_."

"Everyone has to have their _thing_ , Captain."

Now he does smile at her, full and wide, all teeth and crows-feet.

 

Space isn't the most reliable place. Things go wrong, turn bad in the blink of an eye.

With good company, though- with a good crew -there is more comfort than Ed could have ever asked for.

-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> YES gordon and ed = the only ship on this ship that owns my heart next to isaac and finn!!!!!!!! [and kelly and talla maybe, like thats a power duo Right There]. highkey next fic i wanna do is about gord and ed in that split timeline where everything goes to shit.. listen, the chance for kel to not be in ed's life is finally here In Canon and i will Jump For It, as much as i love her [and a lovesick as Fuck ed, which i.. do not touch in this fic bc hoo boy too much angst]
> 
> for personal reasons i will be going to bed for the next 3 hrs thank you and good morning


End file.
